Lemme tell you a little bit about my dad.
First of all, I blame him for why I am so picky about my fellers. He set the standard for how I expect to be treated. My entire life I have watched him wake up every morning and go to work to provide for his family, all the while expressing undying love and faithful devotion to my mom. So the bar is pretty high for the dude in my life.
Plus he has always brought all of his girls Godiva chocolates on special occasions.
Truth is, I have a spectacular set of parents. I could write pages about both of them, but this year in particular I'm noticing how each one is spectacular to me in their own way.
This year has been pretty tough on Isabella. She was confused and pretty mad at me. She took the divorce in stride, but I saw her mourn the loss of her normalcy, and the questions and intuitive comments have been more than a little off-putting. I worried a lot about her having that stable day-to-day father figure that is so important in a little girl's life.
I shouldn't have worried though, because my dad immediately stepped up to the plate and has been there every day. Offering all those important little things a girl needs from her dad. Morning cartoons, snuggles, sneaking her off to buy bags full of candy, playing outside, important life lessons...
He also grills the perfect steak.
This is what I wake up to most Saturday mornings.
Through all of the upheaval and tumultuous instability of the past year, he has been steady as an oak for us. Offering advice, words of wisdom, love and support. Taking care of us, providing for us, and encouraging me to keep my head up and plow through school.
In short, being the perfect example of a true southern gentleman.